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Last Sane Man
Posted on /x/ by The Green Gentleman !!pdQuom7EB/o The day was mundane, even for my life. The internet seemed dead, and the only messages from my friends were just a string of numbers and letters. I guess it was a bug with the website, or some great big in-joke, and no channels on the TV would work. I tried phoning my friends to see what they wanted, but when they picked up all I got was static and mumbled words that I could barely understand. I decided that the only entertaining option for the day would be to go out for a nice stroll in the park, just half a mile away. As I got dressed and prepared to leave my house, I noticed that everything seemed cold. Not temperature wise, everything just seemed like a king had died, or a massive tragedy had occurred. I guessed I was just feeling a bit off because all technology seemed to be failing me. I wandered around the park, kind of aimlessly, thinking about things. Pretty odd and nonsensical thoughts, like what sounds do ostriches make? These thoughts continue to clutter my mind, until I came to an old, rusty children’s playground, and saw a little girl smiling at me. I stopped, awkwardly, and smiled faintly back at her. She raised a tiny hand and waved at me, then singled me to come closer. Nervously, I crept over to her as calmly as I could, hoping that I don’t appear to be some kind of sick rapist. When I was within a fairly close distance of her, the grin quickly faded from her face. Almost inhumanly fast, the little girl climbed up to the tallest point of the structure and then leaped off, headfirst. Her head smashed against the concrete floor, killing her instantly with the most horrifying and sickly cracking sound. I dived to her side, almost slamming against the floor, to see if she was alive. The colour of her face and the life of her eyes were fading, and she was making a constant bloody gurgling sound. I felt tears swelling up behind my eyes, as the most terrifying thoughts ran through my head. Did she commit suicide because of me? Was she murdered? The constant stream of terror was interrupted by a faint, pained heavy breathing coming from behind me. I slowly and hesitantly turned my head, and was greeted by the stare of an old man looking so fascinated and entertained. “I… I made her do that. She was such a good girl. I knew she wouldn’t say no,” The old man stuttered. I stumbled back, horrified. He walked, or should I say twitched his way over to the cold corpse and knelt down. He leaned in and licked her face, greedily lapping up the blood dripping from her mouth. Mortified and confused, I ran up to the man, kicked out a few teeth then started sprinting as hard as I could. I belted down the park until my legs ached and my lungs burned, desperately trying to reach my house. I crammed the keys into the lock, after missing it several times, and ran inside. I wiped off tears that were rolling down my cheeks, picked up my cell phone, and dialled 911. However, when the police answered, it seemed to just be a room full of manic laughing and screaming. I tried talking to them, but they simply laughed and screamed even harder. I slammed down the phone and cried. Suddenly, I felt a sharp throbbing hit to the back of my head, which caused my legs to give. I toppled over to the floor as everything started to get dark, but before I completely lost consciousness I caught a glimpse of a grinning woman holding a crowbar behind me. “He’s so different…” she whispered. Since then, the other people have done many things. Started wars, bombed the planet to smithereens and caused the extinction of most animals in the world. What have they done with me? Oh, drugged me and made me dance and bleed for their entertainment every single day, strapped me to my bed when I’m not dancing, and hailed me as the last sane man in the world. I think they’re trying to break me too. And then what will they do with me? My guess is that they will kill me due to the loss of my novelty. But I openly welcome that, it’s 10 times better than anything else they could do. But I’m afraid my friends, I must leave now. The "doctor" has already stuck the needle in my arm. Category:Mental Illness